


much like what humans should be

by moriido



Category: not yet - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 15:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10414932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriido/pseuds/moriido
Summary: To be fair, this is three drabbles on three unnamed perspectives put together, or to be precise, my OTP and crackship put together. No one is happy, of course, because the writer hasn't learned to create happy things.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The title is loosely based on the title of Akutagawa's short writing about Kikuchi.
> 
> A fair part of this also came from songs I've listened to, plus their in-game quotes. The rest is concocted through my tiring pretentiousness, which I wouldn't claim to be pleasant. If you happen to enjoy this by any chance, it'd be much appreciated.
> 
> Adult happenings are present too, but I try not to make them the focus (like usual).

* * *

 

The first time, he felt a sense of compulsive elation. Like flattery. Like a praise. Like the affection he thought he deserves.

The second time, he felt a phantom sense of numbness. The air he breathed choked his heart; the gasps he gave resembled weeps, reasons hiding themselves behind a foggy veil.

The third time. The fourth time. Is love just the other side of disdain, when you adore someone so much you could run the risk of resenting them eventually? He felt like Sleeping Beauty, trapped within thorns in limbo; a small move can draw blood, but pain holds clean truth and nothing like this wasted unease.

The fifth time. He wanted to cover his ears, not to catch up with the name anymore. He wanted to cover his eyes, for the gaze never had him in its attention to begin with. He wanted to cover his mouth, lest the thorns that bind him grow into words.

So many times that followed, he let the name loose from his lips, loud and louder in every moment they met. The lie he taught himself to live with, while he still was able to.

Where people converge is also what causes them to diverge.

He'd rather be less lonely.

He'd rather be more wanted.

He'd rather be loved, for a brief while that tastes almost like eternity.

 

* * *

  
I hear his name, from myself and the child, recited sacredly like a prayer. Almost everyday, we find solace in each other under the same faith. I adore the child not as my relief, but rather a partner in this sin.

I hear my name from him often in times of favours. I find it almost impossible to disobey, even when benefits are damned. I wonder what makes him different from a god in my book, and the answer is nothing.

I hear the child's name mentioned with newfound fondness during our latest converse. I find myself smiling at the realisation, with resignation determined since the beginning of our new life. He deserves all the love this world can offer, and the pedestal must never know its fall. Be it past or present, I will make sure of this.

Where I am in his list of priorities, I can care less. His friend, his brother, his convenience, his lamb. I will play whatever part he wills me to be.

Before his arrival, I have had this recurring dream of seeing him again. I woke up believing that reality is a nightmare.

Now that he is here, sacrifices of any kind seem petty.

After all, his smile gives me all the strength I need to tempt fate, to shoulder all the sorrow of this world.

 

* * *

  
You know what happens behind closed doors. The distance you treasure pierces every single step whenever you desperately keep yourself far and safe from truth. Soon, it decays into a damned habit; you start drowning yourself in thoughts, wishful and painful. _If only you could._

You know what leads to those unfading marks of passion, conveniently covered by their usual attires. Their treatment for you remains the same, if not better to make up for their guilt, and you reason with yourself to feign contentment. Aching heartbeats continue to spill, onto your daily charade between you and them, onto the multitude of cracks formed in your dreamscape of a second future.

You know whose name escapes your lips when you give in to the worst of your desires. It is a chore, almost, to find pleasure in anything that comes with life, but you have no way to deny that he can simply undo your virtue as the little death lets you be a bit more honest. _If only he would._

You choose life this time, albeit choked in lies.

The moment fate has you and him back together, once again you find happiness unfamiliar, as you are and as he is.

But all you ever wanted, was to be with him.


End file.
